


An Unplanned Gift

by Dellessa



Series: Pet Verse [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M, Master/Pet, Mech Preg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/pseuds/Dellessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:<br/>any others from petverse<br/>Cyclonus/Tailgate</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unplanned Gift

Cyclonus stroked the ears of the little mech curled on his lap. Tailgate was unique. He had volunteered to be a pet and had petitioned for Cyclonus to be his master. Cyclonus had been reluctant at first, but had finally agreed after the mech’s sparkfelt plea. 

Tailgate purred loudly as Cyclonus pet his little downturned ears. He was, in Cyclonus’ estimation, the cutest little cyberkitten he had ever seen. He had a calming effect on the purple mech’s spark. 

Tailgate wiggled more closely and looked up, his optics brightening. 

“Something wrong pet?” Cyclonus asked, and pet the mechs helm gently. 

“I think I need to see a medic,” he whispered, wiggling. “Soon. Very soon.” 

Cyclonus looked down at his mech and frowned, “Pet? Are you sick?” He stood up abruptly, holding the little mech against his sparkplates as he hurried out the door unable to voice the fear in his spark. What if Tailgate was ill? What would he do without him? 

Tailgate swished his fluffy, little tail. “I’m not going to offline, Cyclonus. There is no need to hurry off. I just meant...soon...” 

“If you think you are sick I am not going to wait around!” the purple mech said in exasperation. 

Tailgate’s ears flicked back, “I don't’ think I’m sick.” 

“Have you hurt yourself then? Did I hurt you?” He pulled Tailgate closer, and cradled him against his chestplates as he lengthened his stride and hurried towards the medical center. “Is your valve torn, pet.” 

Tailgate hid his faceplate against Cyclonus’ neck cording, “No...no...nothing like that.” 

“Tailgate---” 

The little mech whimpered, and Cyclonus sighed heavily. He knew he was not going to wring the issue out of the little mech. No, Tailgate would not tell him until he was ready. 

The reached the medical center, and Tailgate wiggled, “Put me down. I will see them on my own.” 

Cyclonus frowned, his pet was acting very odd. Very unlike Tailgate’s normal docile self. He sat the little mech on the ground and watched him walk up to the medic, his little fluffy tail twitching in an agitated manner. The medic took Tailgate off to and exam room leaving Cyclonus alone, and confused in the waiting area.

OoOoOoOo

The green medic lead Tailgate into a private room where Ratchet was waiting. The medic, Hook’s pet, was one of the best pet medic. His ears perked up when Tailgate entered the room and he patted the berth. “Get up, mech.” The red and white medic’s tail twitched with impatience as he waited for Tailgate to crawl up on the berth. “What is the problem.”

“I need a scan. I’ve been feeling odd. I’ve been purging my morning energon, and consuming more than I normally do. I didn’t want Cyclonus to worry, but I think I might be carrying.” 

“Well, let’s see, lay back,” the medic said and went to grab a scanner. “I need you to open your sparkplates.” 

Tailgate offlined the optics as the medic did his work. The medic probed his spark, and the scan itself tickled. “You are. Looks like there are four healthy sparklets on your spark, and it looks like you’ve already started frame construction. Transfluid levels look good, and your mineral levels are acceptable.”  
“Oh...oh...oh goodness.” 

“It will be okay. I’m sure your master will be pleased,” Ratchet said, and pat the little mech on the shoulder as he helped him sit up. “Would you like me to go get him? He can see the scans, kid.” 

“I would like that,” Tailgate squeaked. 

“You sure kid?” Ratchet asked, cocking up a browplate. 

“Please.” 

The medic nodded, and came back with the purple warrior, “What is wrong? Tailgate? What happened? Pet?” 

Tailgate smiled behind his mask, “I’m fine, master. More than fine. I’m carrying.” 

“Four sparklets,” Ratchet said. “You will need to make sure he has a double ration of enriched energon. He is already in the construction phase. It is very important that we monitor his levels. I will need to see him every four megacycles.” 

The warriors optic widened, “Truly?” 

“Yes. You are going to be a creator, master,” Tailgate said in a hopeful voice, “You are...okay with that?” 

“Okay is not the word I would chose for it. I am very...pleased.” He reached out and cupped the side of Tailgate’s helm, “More than pleased. I had hoped...prayed even that Primus would bless us. Sometimes it takes vorns though. I never expected it to be so soon.” 

Tailgate leaned into the touch, “You will love them, master. I know you will. And me as well I would hope.” 

“Always, pet. Always.”


End file.
